Mr and Mrs Spencer
by Carlier36
Summary: The gang helps Eliot run a con... on his parents.
1. Hi Mom, Dad

Disclaimer: I do not own Leverage nor am I associated with Dean Devlin, Timothy Hutton, Gina Bellman, Christian Kane, Aldis Hodge or Beth Riesgraf.

A/N: I've been kicking this idea around for quite some time. Originally, it was supposed to be Parker's family but then I remembered she had grown up in the foster system so it died for a while. And then this madness struck and… tada!

**Hi Mom, Dad**

Eliot wore a blank, stunned expression when he walked into the office that Monday morning. He abandoned his usual detour to the kitchen for a beer or a soda and walked straight into the conference room. The rest of the team was already assembled there, a game of hockey on the large, paneled screen. They all turned to look at him as he entered and instantly sensed something was up. Alec's eyebrows shot up, Nate set down his glass and Sophie reached out a hand for him.

"Eliot! What's wrong?" she asked, always the sensitive one.

"Yes! And the Blackhawks score again!" Parker cheered suddenly, ignoring Eliot and his problems. Sophie rolled her eyes.

"Oh my god, what am I goin' to do?" Eliot ran both hands through his hair, his eyes still a bit unfocused.

"Spit it out, drama queen," Alec quipped, getting impatient.

Eliot took a deep breath and replied, "My mom called."

Sophie dropped her hand in surprise and Nate let out a barking laugh. "Your mom called?"

"Yep. Haven't talked to my parents in almost eight years. And now, just out of the blue, they _want to visit_. How she got the number I don't have the faintest idea. I mean, when I say eight years, I really mean _eight years_. And-"

Parker's voice cut into his ramblings. "Eliot!" He fell silent, glaring at her, but quickly started up again.

"I just don't know what I am going to do. I'm a retrieval specialist; what do I say when they want to know what I do? I'm a 34-year-old man without a girlfriend or any prospects of saying 'I do' anytime soon; that's sure to disappoint my mama. The list just goes on and on!"

"You're also a con artist," Nate put in.

"What?"

Sophie nodded, crossing her arms. "You're also a con artist," she repeated, "So run a con."

"I am not going to _con_ my mama and my daddy." The look on Eliot's face was approaching stunned again.

"Not con, really. You're not after anything. Just show them a life that's not really yours. I mean, come on. We're masters at inventing people," Sophie explained.

"I'm in. I want to see where this crazy, punching machine came from," Alec said from the opposite end of the table.

"Whatever," Parker yawned, "We don't have a job right now and the Rembrandt show in New York doesn't start for a month."

Nate reached for a chip, saying, "When are they coming and how long are they going to be here?"

Shrugging, Eliot replied with, "They'll be here on Friday but she didn't say how long they were going to stay." His face went white. "Good lord, I hope it's not long."

"I'm guessing you and your parents don't get along," Alec said with raised eyebrows.

"It's not that, really, I just always had problems with them, you know? I mean, my dad taught me everything I know but we never connected. It's weird that Mom wants to do this." Eliot shook his head. "Oh, it's going to be a long week."

---

The team had four days to help out their muscle man. Sophie was assigned to image: she had to turn Eliot into the quiet, mild-mannered pencil pusher they all knew was in there somewhere. She was surprised to find several nice suits already in his closet and that his apartment, while somewhat abandoned most of the time, was relatively clean and homey. There was a fully equipped kitchen and, by the looks of the stove, it was the most-used room in the house. The living room needed a little sprucing up so the actress made a quick trip to _Michael's_ for some pillows and a slipcover to hide the beer stains.

Alec was assigned to the workplace. Since they each had personal offices, all he really had to do was customize the room. When he was finished there was not only a plant in the corner, photographs and a CD player loaded with music Sophie had swiped from Eliot's apartment for him, but there was also a computer fully stocked with everything necessary and more to make Eliot look like the consultant he was posing as.

Nate was in charge of backstory. Eliot had to have had some sort of a life for the last eight years. The last time he had talked to his parents, he was still with Aimee and working as a horse trainer. He'd been a 'retrieval specialist' back then, but it was more like a filler job when he needed money, not a career. And so Nate wrote the story of Eliot Spencer: how he came to be in Chicago, how he came to be a financial consultant and, because Nate's neurotic, even silly details like Eliot's pet spider monkey, Mitzy, and her tragic death at the blades of a ceiling fan. He spent four hours going over Eliot's life with him.

Parker, however, had the least work to do: before Mr. and Mrs. Spencer arrived, anyway. Both she and Eliot had grumbled and argued over her assignment but Sophie had been very adamant. While Nate would be Eliot's boss, Sophie and Alec good friends and coworkers, Parker, it seemed, was to pose as Eliot's girlfriend. Eliot knew he had dug that hole himself when he mentioned how disappointed his mother would be that he was single, but even so, _Parker?_ Really?

---

Friday morning they all rolled out of bed, the energizing juice of a con running through their veins. At 11 o'clock sharp, Eliot was pulling into the airport parking lot. His hair was pulled back, much like he wore it during jobs, and a snappy-looking suit hung from his shoulders as though it had been tailor-made for him. He flipped the car into a parking space right ahead of some guy, earning him several horn blares. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Eliot casually made his way into the cool, bustling lobby and over to the arrival screens. A random tune escaped his lips in the form of a meandering whistle to hide his agitated nerves. He watched the reflections of hurrying passersby in the screen in front of him, until a graying woman with a large purse and a tall, Southern rancher came into view. Eliot took a deep breath and turned around.

"Hi Mom, Dad."


	2. Family Meets Family

Disclaimer: I do not own Leverage nor am I associated with Dean Devlin, Timothy Hutton, Gina Bellman, Christian Kane, Aldis Hodge or Beth Riesgraf.

A/N: Eliot's nickname was borrowed from Insomniac-Angel's _Broken Roads_ because I just thought it was so adorable!

**Family Meets Family**

The Spencers weaved through the parking lot. An awkward silence had settled over them after the necessary hugs and handshakes had been exchanged while still in the lobby.

His mother had smiled broadly and taken him by the shoulders, saying, "Oh, Elly, darling, let me look at you!"

"He looks the same as he did six years ago, Margaret, with a few more wrinkles and longer hair," his father had in turn proclaimed in the slow, quiet way he had always had that made anyone feel about two inches tall. Eliot didn't bother to point out it had been _eight_ years.

Finally, they reached the car. Leroy's eyes swept up and down the black Ferrari. "Nice car," he commented, running a hand over the top before turning vaguely accusatory eyes on his son. "How'd you get it?"

Eliot ground his teeth, tossing the keys up and catching them. "Oh, I don't know, Dad. I think the bank robbery probably paid for this one."

Pursing her lips, Margaret reached between them for the door. Eliot stepped back and unlocked the car, but the tension refused to dissipate. Leroy silently loaded their luggage into the back seat as his wife and son buckled their seatbelts.

They were probably ten minutes down the road before Eliot piped up. "For your information, the car was a gift," he explained, gripping the steering wheel.

"Quite a friend," Leroy grumbled from the back.

Ignoring him, Margaret asked, "From who?"

"Ah, my boss." Eliot coughed into a fist. Technically, it _had_ been paid for by a bank robbery, but only in the most indirect way. Parker robbed the bank, lost the cash to Nate in the weekly poker game who then in turn bought the car and lost _it_ several weeks later to Eliot. Okay, so it wasn't really a gift but he was lying about so much else already and according to Hardison he was already going to hell, so what did it matter?

"Your _boss_ gave you this car?" Leroy leaned forward incredulously. "What exactly do you _do_?"

Eliot scratched his cheek, letting out a deep breath. _Here goes nothing_. "I work at an intercultural communications consulting firm, Leverage Consulting & Associates." He held his breath; they had never faced any personal interest in the fictional consulting firm besides whatever Nate and Hardison went through to initially set up the office.

"So, again, what do you do?"

"We help businesspeople, ambassadors, whatever, in dealing with other countries and cultures. Provide translators, teach them about local customs, that sort of thing. Actually, I need to stop by the office and pick some things up, if you guys don't mind."

"No, no, not at all! We'd love to meet your friends." Margaret's eyes lit up in excitement.

Eliot barely hid a grimace. "Yeah, that's kind of what I figured," he mumbled under his breath.

---

The ride up in the elevator was painful as the three of them stood in silence, watching the light travel up each numbered notch until, finally, it reached 21. Eliot breathed a sigh of relief as he led them down the hall to the frosted, double doors. Sophie's friend, Theresa, sat at the front desk typing away on the computer with an expensive-looking headset in her ears. She glanced up as they walked in and subtly winked at Eliot.

"Hello there, Eliot. You must be Mr. and Mrs. Spencer," she said, smiling, "I'm Theresa. It's so nice to finally meet you. I trust you had a nice flight?"

Margaret raised her eyebrows before congenially returning the smile. "Yes, it was lovely! Leroy's not much for flying but I just love it."

"Good, good. Mr. Ford is in the conference room, Eliot," she informed him, gesturing with a flick of her head around the corner. Eliot nodded briefly, reaching for his mom's arm.

"That's my boss," he murmured.

"The one who gave you the car? Ooh, he sounds like _such_ a nice man," Margaret gushed. Eliot made a noncommittal grunt and Theresa covered her laugh with a cough. Sending his parents on ahead, he mouthed a desperate 'thank you!' to their temporary receptionist. She gave him a thumbs up before waving him off.

Rounding the corner, Eliot was greeted by the sight of his father shaking Nate's hand. He narrowed his eyes; never in a million years had he ever imagined this particular meeting. The two most ridiculous, infuriating men he'd ever met in one room. Good lord, what had they unleashed?

Sophie emerged from her office with a clipboard in hand. Her eyes widened in well-played, mock-surprise at seeing the Spencers. "You must be Eliot's parents!" she exclaimed, for once in her natural voice.

"Why, yes, we are! I'm Margaret and this is Leroy," Margaret introduced them, delighted to see the warm brunette. Perhaps there was hope for grandchildren, after all.

"I'm Sophie Devereaux." She extended a hand to both of them. "Nate, cherie, did you offer our guests something to drink?"

Nate's fingers brushed her hand as she moved past him to the bar; Margaret's hopes crashed.

Eliot stared at the Brit in something resembling shock. As Hardison came up behind him, he muttered something about, "They decided 'acting naturally' was the best way to convince them this was all for real."

"You mean, Sophie wanted to get in a little romance from Nate," Eliot corrected without looking at the other man.

Hardison paused in his struggle to button his cuff. "Well, duh."

"What can I get you?" Sophie was saying as they turned their attention back to the oddly mixed group.

"She makes a mean manhattan," Nathan stage-whispered behind his hand, turning hopeful eyes on his sort-of-sometimes-not-really-girlfriend. Sophie almost imperceptibly shook her head, killing his alcoholically happy energy.

"Oh nothing for us," Margaret laughed nervously, "It's a little early for us." Nathan shrugged and stood, bumping Sophie out of the way. Eliot lunged in, interrupting his father's thoughts on the unorthodox couple.

"Ah, Mom, Dad, this is Alec Hardison. He's our computer genius," Eliot buttered his friend up with a forced grin.

Hardison put out a hand, having finally gotten his cuff buttoned. "Pleasure to have you with us, Mr. and Mrs. Spencer," he offered politely, smoothly undoing the chaotic view of Eliot's coworkers Nate and Sophie had created with their version of normalcy.

Before Leroy could pass judgment, however, favorable or otherwise, Theresa stepped into the room. "Eliot?" As everyone turned toward her, she held the headset away from her ear so they could all hear a woman's voice on the other end. "You better get home in time for lunch or she's going to have your hide."

"She?" Margaret's grandchild-hopes shot back up alarmingly fast.

Eliot grunted. "Yeah, yeah, she. Come on, you don't want to see her fired up."

"Well it was so nice to meet you all," Margaret said as her son stalked toward the door.

Hardison eyed the struggle over the shaker lid taking place in the corner. "Hey! Lovebirds!" Sophie and Nate looked up guiltily.

She dropped the metal piece so he had to dive to catch it. With a slight laugh, Sophie bit her lip. "The pleasure is all ours," she said, elbowing Nate.

"Yes, yes, all ours."


	3. Proverbial Fork

Disclaimer: I do not own Leverage nor am I associated with Dean Devlin, Christian Kane or Beth Riesgraf. Leroy and Margaret Spencer are mine.

**Proverbial Fork**

Nothing scared Eliot. But Parker, alone in his apartment, playing happy, normal girlfriend, and possibly cooking, terrified him. His knuckles were turning white as he fiercely gripped the steering wheel. It took everything he had not to run three red lights to get home before Parker burnt the place down – or something equally as embarrassing and expensive. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, he pulled into the driveway of his building and breathed half a sigh of relief. At least there was no visible damage from the outside. No smoke, no flames; hopefully that combination meant no explosions. His neighbors _already_ thought he was weird.

Eliot led his parents into the elevator, loaded down with luggage, praying the week wouldn't last as long as the last hour and a half had. Pulling out his key, he let them into the apartment, scanning the living room to be sure nothing was missing.

"Eliot? Is that you?" Parker's voice was sickeningly sweet; he was reminded of her tragically short-lived gig as a stewardess. He cleared his throat before answering with what he hoped was a suitably cheerful 'yep.'

"I'm impressed, Eliot. It's clean, it's decorated. Actually looks like you live here," Leroy commented, secretly admiring the tongue-and-groove cabinet in the corner.

"Made that myself, Dad. See, I'm not a complete loser."

"Anybody can work power tools."

"Elly, it's a lovely apartment."

Parker appeared around the corner at exactly the right moment before the family drama got out of hand. Eliot had to do a double-take at the sight of her. Nothing was different, exactly; her hair was pulled back in its usual curly ponytail and she wore a simple purple top and worn jeans, no shoes. But she looked so comfortable in his house, with a vinyl record from the sixties in the player and rain pounding against the windows, that he had to remember she'd never been there before and she wasn't really his and what was wrong with him?

Turning his attention back to the 'meet the parents' scene unfolding in front of him, he barely caught Parker's introduction of herself.

"Tatiana Stivanov. But you can call me Parker."

"My, what an interesting name! Are you… Russian?" his mother was asking.

"Mhmm. My father was KGB," Parker answered with a spun sugar smile. Eliot clapped a hand over his face. Of course, this was Parker, so she couldn't act _totally_ normal. Margaret stumbled over an answer for a moment before turning to her son with a knit brow.

"Ah, Mom, Dad, why don't you go put your things in your room while Parker and I set the table? It's just down the hall," Eliot suggested, handing Leroy a suitcase and grabbing the blond thief's arm.

"Oh, uh, all right…" The older couple disappeared into the guest room as Eliot pulled Parker into the kitchen.

"Your father was KGB?!" he hissed, "What the hell was that?"

"Oh relax. I was just having a little fun." Parker rolled her eyes, opening the nearest drawer and pulling out a set of napkins. He caught her arm and spun her around, pushing her hard against the counter.

"Please don't screw this up just by being you, Parker. I need this to go smoothly and you proverbially stabbing my parents with the proverbial fork of your particular, and not proverbial, brand of insanity isn't going to help any," he ground out, his fingers pressing against the bare skin at her hip.

"Might I remind you I'm doing this as a personal favor," she replied, deliberately pulling the silverware from the drawer and poking him in the arm with a fork.

Eliot sighed, dipping his chin to his chest so his hair hung over his face. Parker brushed some of it behind his ear, her fingers lingering at his temple. "I know. I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm just-"

"Jittery? Like a Mexican jumping bean? Yeah, I'm aware."

He snorted, glancing back up to meet her eyes and, in turn, meeting her smile. "Yeah, something like that." She dragged a fingernail down his cheek but before she could reply, the swinging door banged open.

"Oh! Sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt! I'll just- go-" Margaret scrambled.

"No, no, Mrs. Spencer. It's all right."

"Yeah, Mom, you weren't interrupting anything," Eliot assured her, his eyes still locked on Parker's face, though she had looked away.

"Please, dear, call me Margaret. After all, we're practically family, you and I!" she insisted hopefully. Eliot unobtrusively rolled his eyes as he straightened.

"Yes, practically," Parker agreed. "Would you like to help me with the table?"

"Of course, dear! Eliot, go sit with your father; let us women do our jobs!" Dutifully, Eliot left the kitchen, but he backed out, his mind trying to process his own odd behavior.

---

Parker hadn't felt so awkward in, well, ever. Eliot's parents were nice enough, but Leroy, especially, didn't really want to be there. Parker had never been any good at reading people, that was Sophie's department, but even she could tell Margaret desperately wanted to know her son and Leroy had long since given up that they ever would. For a brief flash, she felt the pangs that Eliot ought to cherish the family he had, but it passed quickly.

She cleared her throat. "Uh, would you pass the macaroni salad? Babe?" She snapped her fingers to get Eliot's attention, the name slipping out easily.

He wordlessly handed her the bowl but she knew him well enough to see the vague surprise at how well she was adapting to this cover. Normally, she was beyond awful at the fake social interaction. But here, at his table, enduring pointless conversation with his mom and dad, she almost seemed to be comfortable. Despite the obvious awkwardness. Eliot shook his head to clear it.

After lunch they sat in the living room with cups of coffee and tea and some biscotti Eliot had stashed in the cupboard to cover up an extra gun. He'd have to get some more at that stand in the lobby at the office. Conversation lagged and between the lulls it was dull and unexciting. Such nice people you work with, a little strange if you ask me, lovely apartment, needs paint. The compliments and insults from mom and then dad almost sounded rehearsed they were so cookie-cutter.

Eliot was more than relieved when Margaret decided she wanted to get settled in the spare room and dragged Leroy with her. Parker heaved a sigh, placing her hands on her knees. "Well."

"Yeah, I know. I owe you big."

"Oh, big. _Big._ Elly," Parker smirked.

"Shut up," he grumbled, reaching for a magazine on the coffee table.

Parker stood, stretching. His eyes drifted over the top of the magazine to the way her jeans rode down on her hips. "What? It's cute. Suits you. I think I'm going to start calling you that."

"Oh no, you don't! I don't ever want to hear Hardison say 'Elly'."

"We'll see about that. I have some things I have to do. I'll be back about… ah… sometime before the sun comes up," Parker shrugged, leaning over him, hands on his shoulders. She lightly brushed his cheek with her lips. "Bye, sweetheart." She giggled. "Oh this is way too much fun."

Eliot rolled his eyes but his cheek burned long after the front door slammed behind her.

---

The right side of the bed dipped under Parker's weight as she crawled in beside him. Eliot rolled over, rubbing a hand over his face, glancing at the clock. The red, digital letters read 1:23.

"What the hell kind of errands did you have to do?" he grumbled before his eyes swept over her, long legs still outside the covers. "And what are you wearing?"

"Your shirt; I found it in the dresser. I don't normally wear _anything_ to bed but I figured we'd better be at least halfway decent. Unless you'd rather not," Parker said, her voice completely serious as she tugged at the hem that ended just at the top of her thighs.

Eliot swallowed hard. "My _mother_ is right down the hall, Parker."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself." She settled in next to him, her form curling perfectly into his, one hand on his back.

Eliot slept ridiculously well that night.


	4. You Snore

Disclaimer: I do not own Leverage nor am I associated with Dean Devlin, Christian Kane, Beth Riesgraf, Timothy Hutton, Gina Bellman or Aldis Hodge.

A/N: I'm not sure how happy I am with this chapter; what do you guys think?

**You Snore**

The Spencers had been there three excruciatingly long days when Margaret decided she wanted to see the sights; she had never been to Chicago and, while Eliot and Leroy both tried to convince her there wasn't much to see, she was insistent. Parker, on the other hand, was overly excited about the idea. It wasn't until she persuaded Margaret that they just _had_ to visit the Sears Tower Skydeck that Eliot realized why. She was giddy all the way up the elevator, dancing from one foot to the other, much to his chagrin. Leroy grumblingly wandered through the museum with his wife while Parker herded her 'other half' outside.

"Ah! I've always wanted to zip up here," she admitted, the wind whipping her hair into his face.

Eliot shook his head. "There's something wrong with you."

"You need a new line," Parker glared, hands on hips, as she parked herself by the railing. He grunted, leaning beside her. She dropped her arms to her sides. "Your mom seems really nice."

Eliot raised his eyebrows, but didn't look at her. "Your dad's kind of a jerk, though."

He let out a barking laugh. "I thought the only reason you were doing this was to find out what's wrong with _me_. See? Mission accomplished."

"No."

He twisted to see her better. "No, what?"

"No, I'm not doing it to find out what's wrong with you. I don't think there _is_ anything wrong with you," she clarified. He stared at her like she'd grown a second head and a third eyeball, but before he could formulate a response, Margaret and Leroy joined them.

"Did you know this thing cost over $150 million in 1973? That's ridiculous! Think of all the things that money could have gone towards," Leroy was saying. Eliot rolled his eyes, grateful for the ringing of his phone in his pocket.

Glancing at the screen that read 'Sophie,' he flipped it open. "Hey, Sophie."

"Hi! Where are you?"

"Ah… the top of Sears Tower. Why?" Parker was deep in a conversation with the Spencers about the cost of every item in the building, but listening to him with half an ear.

"Well, I want you to come to my play tonight! The theatre is on 37th St, right on the corner," she explained, excited.

Eliot froze. "Um, well, I don't, I-I-I think Parker might have made plans or something," he stammered.

"Well is she with you?" Sophie demanded.

He gave a defeated sounding, "Ye-ah."

"So ask her! I _really_ want you guys to be there. It's going to be great!"

He took a deep breath before holding the phone to his chest. "Par-ker?" he got her attention, his voice cracking. She looked up expectantly at him, so he continued. "Um, Sophie wants to know if-if we can come to her play tonight."

Her eyes widened and she shook her head fiercely. "No. No! What are you, nuts?" Eliot swallowed hard. "Tell her anything! Say you already made dinner and you don't want it to go to waste. Or you're having a heart attack and you have to go to the hospital. _Anything_!"

Margaret gasped. "Why that's terrible! You two ought to be ashamed of yourselves. Trying to get out of a good friend's invitation! I raised you better than that, Eliot Raymond Spencer!" Eliot cringed under his mother's scolding.

"Mom, you don't understand! The woman is _terrible_!" he hissed, his voice dropping an octave.

"She can't be that bad. I want to go. Tell her we'll be there," Margaret ordered and, to Parker's horror, he meekly obeyed. She jumped when he pulled the phone away from his ear, Sophie's squeal just about breaking his eardrum. Slowly, he hung up.

"Well. It looks like we're going to the theater."

"Do you have any idea how much I want to throw myself over this railing?"

---

Hardison, Parker, Eliot and his parents walked from the dingy, little theater into the cool, night air in shock. They moved slowly, as though in serious, physical pain. Leroy grabbed his son's arm.

"What do you say to her after one of these performances?" he asked in mortification.

Eliot patted his shoulder. "Just follow our lead." He turned as Sophie popped out the double doors, a wide grin on her lips.

"Did you like it? Was I good? God, I was _so_ nervous!" She hugged Hardison and then Eliot, receiving smiles and kisses on the cheek.

"You were genius, sweetie." "As always." With Parker's interjection of, "So way better than last time," followed by a giggle. Margaret and Leroy's smiles were less schooled and a bit more pained but they at least satisfied Sophie.

"Where's Nate?" she finally asked, breathless.

"Uh, he's in the little boys' room," Hardison supplied as he scratched the back of his head.

"Speak of the devil," Parker added, wrapping her arms around Eliot's waist and resting her head on his back.

Nathan half-skipped over the last step from the downstairs bar, plastering on a grin for Sophie. Holding out his arms, he murmured something about 'fabulous' and dipped his lips to hers in a pleasantly searing kiss. Sophie stood stiff in his arms, startled, for probably around a half a second before responding in kind. The team turned awkwardly away, looking somewhere between distinctly thankful and distinctly grossed out.

After several long moments of– soul-searching– the two broke apart. Sophie swiped at a dash of lipstick on his bottom lip, breathing heavily. "So, are we going to go out or what?" she asked of the team, still wrapped in Nathan's arms, as though nothing had happened.

"Yes, yes, I vote food," Parker jumped in, hopping in front of Eliot and pulling his hands to her hips.

"Me too. How about that little Mexican place over on Bartway?" Hardison suggested.

Margaret wrinkled her nose. "Mexican gives Leroy indigestion, doesn't it, dear?"

"Mhmm," Leroy grunted, still too traumatized to be embarrassed by his wife.

"Actually, I think we'll just go back to Elly's apartment. We like to go to bed early and I wouldn't want to spoil your fun," Margaret announced.

"Well, there's quite a bit of lasagna in the fridge. We could just all go back to my-our," Eliot amended at the pinch from Parker, "place. That way you two can crash whenever you want." Nods and affirmatives were exchanged all around so the group split off to their individual cars, with Sophie jogging to catch up to Nathan's long stride. "You don't think I'm going to forgive you for skipping out on my play just because you kissed me, do you?"

He turned wide, scared, amused eyes on her. "I _did not_," he vehemently denied, "I would never!"

"Uh huh. Sure." Sophie grabbed his lapels, placing a second, lingering kiss on the corner of his mouth before walking around to the other side of the Tesla. "Well come on! What are you waiting for? At this rate, everyone else is going to be done by the time we get there."

Nathan shook his head, opening his bright red door.

---

They shared lasagna, shrimp salad, carrots and various other things Nate and Hardison scrounged out of Eliot's fridge. Forks and tupperware made for the fine china and a bottle of wine was passed around without glasses, somehow conveniently skipping Nate each time.

"So, I'm still not really clear on what it is you all do," Leroy stated, sitting ramrod straight in a rocking chair.

"We provide companies the support they need to send their employees all over the world, with knowledge of languages, customs, local haunts, whatever they need," Nate explained as he speared a carrot slice with his fork.

"So you're all travelers, then?" Margaret sighed dreamily at the confirmative answers. "I've always wanted to see the world."

"You should go! There's nothing like Paris. Spring, Fall, Christmas, whenever. It's the only city in the world that's breathtaking all year round," Sophie exclaimed.

"What _is_ it with you and Paris? Seriously, ignore her. You really want to see something awesome? Try Taiwan. Tallest building in the world," Parker stared off cheerfully.

Eliot rolled his eyes. "Yeah that's it, Parker. Send my parents to _Taiwan._"

"What? Great Chinese food," she defended herself.

Hardison rolled his eyes. "That's because it's in China."

"No, no, no. You would love Alice Springs, Dad. No place in the world like it," Eliot disagreed.

Sophie groaned. "It's just dry, dusty outback!"

"Is not! There are some damn fine gum trees out there and more than a few waterholes."

"Exactly. _Holes_."

"Oh you just don't like the camels," Eliot teased her.

"Yes, yes, that's it, Eliot. I just don't like the mean, spitting creatures," Sophie made a face, "It's perfectly natural to think camels are evil."

"I agree," Parker piped up, "Bad as horses. Worse, even."

"I thought you decided horses weren't murderous." Hardison slouched against his armchair.

"I did. That doesn't mean I like them." She stuck her tongue out at him.

Around 10:00 Margaret and Leroy bid everyone sweet dreams and called it a night. After several other equally pointless conversations, including one about yo-yos, Nathan, Sophie and Hardison made their ways to the door, leaving Parker and Eliot alone in the living room. She heaved a sigh and flipped her legs into his lap.

"You know, this boyfriend-girlfriend thing isn't so bad," she dropped, watching him from behind partially closed eyelids. Eliot's gaze shot to her face. Every morning since that very first night, they had woken up in comfortably tangled sheets, sharing a pillow. It wasn't as though she was ever tucked neatly in his arms (though she was) or his head was ever on her shoulder (though it was) but it was delightfully unnerving.

Parker sighed lightly, rolling off the couch. "I'm going to go change for bed." He watched her go, his thoughts tripping over one another. Eliot was still looking to the doorway when she reemerged in his Eagles t-shirt.

"You coming?" She fiddled with the fraying hemline.

He met her gaze, icy blue for icy blue, for an hour-long thirty seconds. His fingers tightened and untightened, tightened and untightened on the edge of the cushion. Finally, he nodded. "Yeah, I'll be right there."

Parker spun around and pranced down the hall to 'their' room. It was so weird that he didn't find that weird. Taking a deep breath, he followed in her tiny, soundless footsteps. They brushed their teeth, Parker washed her face and he pulled his hair back in a ponytail, all in perfect harmony around each other.

Crawling into bed, Parker handed him a clear piece of rubber.

"What's this?"

"One of those teeth things; I saw it on tv. You snore."


	5. Office Romances

Disclaimer: I do not own Leverage nor am I associated with Dean Devlin, Christian Kane, Beth Riesgraf, Gina Bellman or Timothy Hutton.  
A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long guys – I really struggled with writer's block on it. But I do know where it's going so hopefully the next chapter won't be so delayed! Also, this one is a teeny bit heavier than the last few.

**Office Romances**

Eliot watched Parker shifting in her sleep over the rim of his glasses, a book resting in his lap. She sighed lightly, rolling away onto her back, her hand flopping to his leg. Eliot reached out and took it in his, inspecting the chipped, purple polish. He smirked. In so many ways, she was so young. She could be… bubbly, even. Maybe not normal or human, but cute. He had never realized it until he saw her the night before, waiting for him to come to bed, but, he liked having her around. He liked having all of them around, but especially her. Hardison was a nice guy but a little (a lot) geeky. Nathan and Sophie had way too many problems each to not be one of her terrible plays times ten when they were in the same room. But Parker was just Parker. She was nuts and more than a little bizarre but she didn't come with a whole truckload of-

"Elly?" Parker was holding herself up by her free arm, her hair mussed, her voice rough, and her right hand still clutched in his.

Eliot's eyes shot to her confused face. "Huh?"

"What are you doing?" she half-whined, blinking the sleep out of her eyes.

He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. "Just thinking."

Parker raised an eyebrow but only fluffed the pillow behind her, settling herself against him. Eliot's arm wrapped around her as she read aloud from his book, disregarding the fact that she hadn't a clue what it was about or what was going on. He tuned her out, but brought up his hand to stroke her hair. They lay curled up like that until sunlight replaced the need for the small table lamp.

---

The family sat around the kitchen table, plates heaping with fresh pancakes. It was the most relaxed Parker had seen the three Spencers since she'd met them. They were laughing and talking amongst themselves and she was so busy watching them, she almost missed when the conversation turned to her.

"Pass the syrup, Parker?" Leroy was asking. So it wasn't really a conversation. Parker blinked; she handed him the glass bottle, smiling as she joined in the morning hubbub.

"So you two are off to work today, then, I guess," Margaret commented.

"Mhmm. Sorry, Mom, but Nate'll be in an awful mood if we miss another day," Eliot agreed, truthfully, for once.

"Well, a _more_ awful mood," Parker put in.

Margaret pouted. "But we're only here a few more days!"

"The boy has to go to work, Margie. Let him be," Leroy scolded.

"Can't we come with you?"

Parker and Eliot exchanged glances. "No, I don't think so, Mom. We have a lot of work to do."

"Oh, please, dear? We won't get in the way! I just want to see you at the office." Margaret dabbed at her lips with her napkin.

Eliot sighed, shooting Parker an already-defeated look. Still looking at her instead of his mother, he said, "All right, all right. But you have to stay out of the way! Parker, why don't you go call Sophie. She'll be furious with us if she's not ready for company."

Parker grumbled her way to the kitchen, but took a few plates with her.

---

Parker was still downstairs getting a bag of chips out of the vending machine, but Eliot led Margaret and Leroy once again into the Leverage Consulting offices. He tossed a folder on the conference table in front of Hardison. "That's all the information on Ruger's, ah," he paused, glancing at his dad, "business meeting at the club the other night."

Hardison 'whooped'. "You da man, Elly," he grinned, clapping Eliot on the shoulder as he stood. He dodged out of reach, though, admittedly, Eliot wasn't trying very hard.

"You can probably hang out in Sophie's office, Mom. It's right through that door," he pointed, shoving one hand in his pocket.

Margaret's lips turned up and she clapped her hands. "Ooh, she seems like just the nicest woman. I can't _wait_ to get to know her better!" As she lightly knocked on the frosted glass of Sophie's door, Nathan sauntered into the room.

"Mr. Spencer! What a pleasure," he smirked, raising his glass.

Eliot rolled his eyes. "Well I've got work to do. See you two later," he said hurriedly, heading quickly for his office. Parker slammed the front door as he passed the walkway and he gestured to her to follow him.

---

Sophie stood with her back to the door, one hand on her hip and the phone in the other. "So you would rather send 12 innocent children _back_ to some crack orphanage in Serbia and let them rot than put in a few hours overtime to find them homes? Are you so selfish- Oh, no, no, no. We _saved_ those kids. _All of them_. Not just some, but all of them." There was a long pause in which Margaret crept to the comfy-looking chair by the desk. Sophie sighed, still not knowing Eliot's mother was there. "All right, all right. Fine. But I expect you to be slaving as well or these poor kids are going to be_come_ slaves!" She spun around, forcefully hanging up the phone, but let out a shriek at the sight of Margaret.

"Oh! I didn't mean to scare you, dear! So sorry!" the older woman rushed to apologize.

Sophie bent over her desk, a hand pressed to her heart. She laughed, catching her breath. "No, no, it's all right. Can I get you anything?"

"Actually, a nice glass of water would be lovely, dear," Margaret conceded, settling herself better in the chair. Sophie nodded and got up to pour a glass from the small cart under the window.

" What was that phone call? I don't mean to be nosy, but it sounded so intriguing," Margaret asked as Sophie returned. She graciously took the tall water, sipping delicately at it.

Sophie bit her lip, flushing slightly. "Sorry about that. I was just a bit upset." At Margaret's look, she sighed. "All right, I'm frustrated and aggravated and they're lucky all I did was yell."

Margaret laughed, a sweet, twinkling sound. "Go on."

"Well, you see, several months ago we learned of an orphanage in Serbia that was ripping off American couples who wanted to adopt. We were supposed to be something of a middle man to try and get this one couple's new son back, but once we got in there, we learned it was a much bigger operation than we'd anticipated. There were arms dealers and cover-ups and ach…" Sophie massaged her forehead with the tips of her fingers. "Anyway, we eventually managed to get all the children out and- those in charge arrested and we set up a drop-off with the WHO. We got there, they were ready for us, we dropped the kiddies off, we went to Paris, Nathan was in a splurging mood by the time we got to Tiffany's…"

Margaret smirked knowingly at the casual mention. Those two had to be a real riot once you got to know them. "But now they're calling and trying to tell me they can only find homes for 18 of the little tykes and the other 12 are going to be sent back to Serbia, of all the asinine ideas! They'll only end up in another crappy orphanage and nothing will have changed, but if I can't find 12 good homes for these poor kids, that's exactly what's going to happen. And I can't let that happen: see, Parker was raised in the system and she had a really terrible time of it so this job hit hard for her. I just can't let her down."

"Well we had best get to work then, hadn't we?" Margaret set her glass on the desk, raising an eyebrow. Sophie stared at her, uncomprehendingly. "My niece is a foster parent and I know what a wonderful thing it can be. I want to help any way I can and I know more than a few people down south who would be willing and able to take in a child down on their luck."

Sophie's eyes widened and so did her smile. "You're a godsend! I must admit this isn't my usual game."

"I did sort of figure as much," Margaret's eyes twinkled, "But, Sophie, dear, this job you're telling me about sounds awfully dangerous. I though you were only consultants?"

"We are, but sometimes we like to get in and get our hands a bit dirty. None of us started out in this business; we just sort of came to it," Sophie explained as she reached for the phone book, the half-lie slipping easily off her tongue.

"I know it seems silly for a mother to be asking this, but, what did Eliot do before this?" Margaret fiddled with her nails, refusing to meet Sophie's eyes.

Sophie closed the phone book without a second thought and reached across the desk for her hand. "It's not silly at all, Margaret," she shook her head, "You haven't seen your son in eight years. I can't even imagine."

"Do you have children?"

She sighed. "No. I can't," Sophie shrugged, though the look in her eyes said more than her words even.

Margaret sucked in a breath. "Oh, my dear. I'm so sorry. Mr. Ford seems-ah-"

Sophie managed a smirk. "You don't have to pretend. Most strangers think he's an ass. And, trust me, he is. It's not an act. But he does like children. Very much so, actually."

Margaret chuckled. "How long have the two of you been together?"

Biting the inside of her cheek, Sophie tried to think of a reasonable answer. Finally, she responded with, "That's a tough one." Margaret looked utterly confused, so she elaborated. "I don't really know that we _are_ together, is the only thing."

"Well, dear, there are a few things in this world a woman should always know and the most important of those, next to what kind of hairspray to use depending on the weather, is whether or not you're a couple."

Sophie's face broke into a genuine smile. "You know, I think I'm going to like you."

Laughing, Margaret scooted her chair closer to the desk. "My son and that Miss Parker, for instance, they're a couple who really knows what they're all about."

Sophie ran a finger across her bottom lip to hold in her laughter. "Yes, yes, Parker and Eliot certainly have it together." For once, she wasn't lying. She had discreetly been watching them, albeit nervously, the night before and noticed how easily they moved around each other. It was like watching two dancers or boxers or, more appropriately, the perfect couple.

---

Parker leaned against the frosted glass door as Eliot closed it. "What?" she asked, digging through the miniature bag for the perfect chip.

"We need to talk." Eliot sat on the very edge of his desk, arms folded.

Parker's eyebrows shot up. "About what?"

"About what the hell is going on!" At her look, he rolled his eyes. "This was supposed to be simple, easy…"

Parker walked towards him and set the chip bag on the desk beside him. "Elly? I'm going to need a little more than that. I'm not a mind reader like Sophie."

He closed his eyes, dropping his chin to his chest so his hair hung in front of his face. "You don't feel anything?"

"Feel what?" Parker demanded, a little more harshly than she had intended.

Eliot grit his teeth, running a hand over his face. "This morning. Have you not worn my shirt to bed the last four nights? Did you not wake up in my arms this morning? Did we-"

Parker held up a hand. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. You want to talk about whether or not I think we should have sex?" she clarified, taking a step toward him.

He blinked. "Ah- Not _exactly_."

"Because I think we shouldn't."

Eliot stared at her, a mix of confusion, relief and, yes, certainly disappointment in his eyes. Parker took a step closer, a blush creeping over her cheeks. "Look, I've never woken up with a guy before."

"Never?"

She shook her head. "It's never been anything big, you know? So I always leave. But with you… it's different. We're not actually doing anything so there's no pressure."

Eliot swallowed hard, glancing to the carpeted floor. "Um, yeah, I guess I get that," he murmured.

Parker sighed. "That's not what you wanted to hear, is it?"

He let out a small, uncomfortable laugh. "You've been spending too much time with Sophie," he teased, but his voice dropped half an octave before he continued, "No, I guess it isn't."

Reaching out a hand to his shoulder, Parker maneuvered around the chairs. He settled a hand at her waist, but didn't look up. "I'm not good at this," she said softly, "But I know I like waking up with you and I like eating breakfast with you and I like wearing your t-shirt to bed. I just don't want to ruin that."

"You know, all that stuff is very relationshippy."

There was a long pause. "Yeah, I know. I'm just scared, Elly," she finally admitted.

"Scared of what?"

"All of this. Offices and a job and a relationship and parents and… I've never had _any _of that."

Eliot's gaze softened as he watched the words spill over her lips. "Oh Parker." He tucked a blond curl behind her ear, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "We won't do anything you don't want to."

---

"So Eliot tells me you're in the car business," Nathan said, conversationally.

Leroy nodded. "Been changin' oil for thirty-four years."

"Have you ever worked on electric cars?"

"Those wind-up toys? Pshaw," Leroy laughed, accepting the offered drink.

Nate ignored the comment. "See, I've got some sort of a problem with the brakes and I thought maybe you could take a look at it."

Shrugging, Leroy said, "Why not? We got to keep you city folk happy."

It took little time for the two men to take the elevator down to the parking garage, but it was an awkward ride. Nate led the way to his car and stopped, but Leroy just kept walking.

"Hey, wait! _This_ is my car," Nate called out, pointing to the Tesla.

"You said it was an _electric_ thing."

Nate smirked. "It is. Here, the brake mechanism is right under here. It's probably nothing, but I just want to be sure before I end up driving off a cliff somewhere or something."

"_This_ is your wind-up horsepower?" Leroy bent down to see better where Nate was pointing. Running a hand over the door frame, he added quietly, "She's a beauty. And here's your problem." Leroy rattled off a few things and stood, dusting his hands off. Nate leaned against the door, folding his arms.

"This… Parker girl. How long have she and my son been together?" Leroy asked suddenly.

"About six months," Nate answered, bringing up the history he had invented for them, "Why?"

"Six months and they live together." Leroy scratched his temple, kicking at the ground. "I thought I taught the boy more…class, more respect than that."

Nate bit his lip. "If it's any consolation, he loves her like nothing else. I mean, we all take care of each other, but those two… They've got something really special." Somehow it didn't feel like a lie.

"What exactly does she do around here?"

"Parker's in, uh, transportation, I guess you could say. She gets us where we need to be," Nate explained vaguely, his thoughts still tangled up in office romances.


	6. The World is Full of Lies

Disclaimer: I do not own Leverage nor I am associated with Dean Devlin, Christian Kane, Beth Riesgraf. I do not own the song _I Look at You_, nor am I associated with George Strait. Margaret and Leroy Spencer were created by me for the purposes of this story.  
A/N: Wow, this took a long time, though, believe it or not, I wrote it in the last hour. Macie poked, I typed and this happened. It actually changed my lineup a bit but there will still be eight chapters, so be on the lookout for the final two!

**The World is Full of Lies**

Eliot dusted his hands on his pants, flour smearing the abused denim. He shut the oven with his foot, setting the timer on the bread. "Parker!"

"What?" Parker's voice shouted back from the bathroom.

"Hey, um, I've got this thing tomorrow night and I was wondering if you might want to come. I thought it would be nice for Mom and Dad to see what I do with my free time, too," Eliot answered awkwardly.

Parker tripped out through the living room and into the kitchen. "What kind of a thing?"

"Um, a music thing?" Eliot sounded unsure of himself, having never shared that part of him with any of his friends.

"Music? Like we go and _listen _to it?" Parker raised an eyebrow, not following.

He sighed, wiping his hands on his pants again. "No, no. Well, yeah. But like _you all_ come listen to _me_. I play guitar. And… sing a little." Eliot looked away.

"Really? That's so cool! I can totally see it. Yeah, of course I'll come." Parker stepped between the messy counter and him, slinging her arms around his neck. Eliot settled his hands at her tiny waist.

"Do you think _they_ will? It's kind of a dingy little bar," he asked, marveling at how normal this all felt.

Parker shrugged. "If they don't, their loss. You're too sensitive."

"_I'm_ too _sensitive_?" Eliot's eyes widened. Leaning in, he muttered in her ear, "Parker, I'm a _hitman_."

"A sensitive hitman." Margaret came around the corner and they broke apart, but the look in Parker's eyes remained. She nudged him with her elbow.

Eliot cleared his throat, reaching for the spatula he was marinating onions with. "Hey, Mom, um, I've got this gig tomorrow night at a little club downtown and I was wondering if you and Dad might want to come," he offered, not looking up from his stove.

"A gig?"

"Mhmm. Elly plays guitar," Parker said as though she had always known it, wrapping her arms around him so her cheek rested against his back. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Why, Elly! I'd love to come hear you play!" Margaret assured him, to his surprise.

"Are you sure? It's not the nicest place…"

"Nonsense. I'm sure it's perfectly lovely." Eliot glanced over his shoulder at the top of Parker's head but she only kicked his heel for trying to talk his mom out of his own offer.

---

Eliot nervously picked at his guitar, not really playing anything. He was on in eight minutes and Parker and his parents had yet to arrive. Shaking his head, he wondered why he was surprised. Parker had no sense of time or commitment and he hadn't thought Margaret and Leroy actually wanted to come anyway. Yet he sat there, breaking picks, waiting for them to walk in the door.

"Spencer, five!" He heard from the edge of the stage. Sighing, Eliot stood, slinging the strap over his shoulder. The previous act made their way off and he was on. Eliot made his way out to the middle of the stage. He scanned the small crowd, hoping he had only missed them, but to no avail. Adjusting the mike, he announced in that slow drawl that this was for a girl that was supposed to be here tonight.

Outside, Parker was leaning over with her head in her hands as Leroy drove around in circles, trying to find a parking space, even though they had passed several already. Too muddy, too skinny, too far away… Finally, she lost her patience. "Just let me out!" she said, throwing her hands up in the air. "Obviously _you_ don't want to see your son but _I_, for one, do! So just stop and let me out. Drive back to Kentucky or Georgia or the Ozarks or wherever the hell you're from and don't bother your poor, sweet, wonderful son again, but whatever you do, just _let me out_."

Leroy and Margaret stared at her with wide eyes, feeling somewhere between insulted and chastised. The car slowed and Parker was out before the wheels stopped turning. She slammed the door, not caring if she seemed rude or unusual, just wanting to get inside before Eliot was on. Running up to the door, she could hear the announcer say his name and cursed. She paused as she reached for the handle, hearing his dedication. Her brow knit and she pursed her lips, her hand falling to her side. The soft strains of his voice accompanied those of his guitar.

"_Sometimes I can't put up with bein' so put down  
And all my faith can manage, is the shadow of a frown  
My soul's about to break, there's only one escape  
I look at you, when the world is full of lies  
I look at you, and the truth is in your eyes  
I look at you, when I lay me down at night  
And I wanna see a dream come true  
I look at you, and I know I've got it all  
You touch my hand, and the burdens start to fall  
You ease my troubled mind, I love you more each time I look at you…"_

Parker leaned against the building, sliding to the ground, she pulled her knees up to her chest. Her fingers brushed a stray tear from her cheek as she swallowed around the lump in her throat. This was why people like them didn't form attachments, didn't have relationships. It was dangerous, it was painful, and, worst of all, sometimes it was real. She looked up to see Leroy making a lonely path through the parking lot. She sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Parker? Are you all right?" he asked, his voice softer and more kind than she had heard it.

Parker sniffed. "Where's Margaret?"

"She- She sent me after you to apologize," Leroy admitted, looking at his hands.

"You don't need to apologize to me; you need to apologize to Eliot," Parker threw back, standing. Dusting off her pants, she looked him square in the eye. "He's already on. And while you're at it, why don't you apologize for all the other crap you've given him this week? He's a great guy and you treat him like a complete failure!"

Leroy shuffled his feet, sticking his hands in his pockets, if only to keep them from fidgeting. "Eliot and I don't have the best relationship. I think it's best to just leave it be."

"No, you know what, all I have of my real father is a stuffed bunny rabbit he bought when I was born, three days before he _died_. Eliot has a living, breathing man to call 'Dad' and you throw that right in his face. He deserves so much more." Parker grit her teeth, her voice betraying the tears still filling her eyes, though he couldn't see them in the dark.

Back inside, it was all Eliot could do to keep it together. They were supposed to be here, dammit. He expected as much from his parents, but Parker? Parker… He swallowed hard, trying not to think about Parker. It was a good thing she _hadn't_ been here for that song, because obviously he had been imagining things.

Backstage, he set his guitar in its case and zipped it up, feeling that there was something very final about the action. He slung the oddly shaped case over his shoulder and made his way out the back door. Walking around the side of the building to his parked car, he heard arguing. Instincts kicking in, Eliot tossed his guitar in the car and slunk around the corner. His eyes widened as he made out Parker half-yelling at his father. A rush of emotions hit him squarely in the face. How long had they been here? What had they heard? More importantly, what had _she _heard? And, most interestingly, why was she so upset?

Eliot backed away, not sure he wanted to hear anything. Stealthily he got in the car and carefully backed out, sneaking out of the parking lot before either of them could see him.

Margaret, on the other hand, watched his flashy car drive passed the truck and wondered what was really going on.


	7. I Mean It

Disclaimer: I do not own Leverage nor I am associated with Dean Devlin, Christian Kane, Beth Riesgraf. I do not own the song _I Look at You_, nor am I associated with George Strait. Margaret and Leroy Spencer were created by me for the purposes of this story.

A/N: I cannot believe how long this took! I just couldn't come up with a way to smooth out the outline I basically chucked. But I sat down today and this just all poured out so here we go! I just hope it lives up to the expectation after so long.

**I Mean It**

_August 2001_

Aimee was like a daughter to him and his boy had hurt her. Leroy sighed, crossing his arms as he watched her working in the arena with a new Thoroughbred. Eliot had always been a flighty one but he had a good heart. He loved that girl, that much was obvious. Yet he kept running away.

Bob, Aimee's new boyfriend, sauntered over to the gate beside him. "You're Leroy, right?"

Leroy glared but grunted. "Yep. Eliot's dad." Not that Bob would know Eliot as any more than an ex. He had been gone four months this time. And Leroy didn't think he was coming back.

"Right." Bob cleared his throat, quiet for a moment, before saying, "You've known Aimee most of her life, huh?"

"Yep."

Bob ran a hand over his face nervously at the monosyllables. "I want to ask her to marry me. Do you think she'll say yes?"

Slowly, Leroy turned to look at him. "I think she won't say no," he told him honestly, though it hurt to admit it.

Nodding shortly, Bob practically ran away, heading inside for the offices. It was two months later when Aimee approached him, wringing her hands. "Leroy?" she called, stepping into his barn.

"Down here!" he called back and she followed his voice to the last stall where he stood, brushing out a paint.

"Hey…" Aimee leaned against the stall door, crossing her arms. "Um, Leroy. See, the thing is, I want to talk to you about- about Bob." Leroy nodded without looking at her so she continued. "See, he asked me to marry him."

Glancing up at her finally, Leroy straightened. "He really did it, hmm?"

Aimee's brow knit in confusion. "He told you? But- then you're okay with it?"

"Aimee-girl." He brushed hay out of her hair with a fatherly look in his eyes. "Are you happy with him?"

Swallowing hard, she nodded slowly. A woman would have stopped and needled her about the hesitation but he simply took it for feminine indecision and smiled. "Then, yes. I'm happy you're happy."

---

"Hi Dad." Leroy spun around at Eliot's unmistakably soft-spoken voice as he walked into the dark house. Margaret was at her bunco club so he was up for dinner by himself – or at least he thought he had been. Eliot sat in a chair in the living room, looking contrite when he flipped the light on.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Leroy demanded, more harshly than he meant to.

"It's nice to see you, too," Eliot snapped, standing with a sigh and rubbing his hands together. "I didn't know she was getting married. I wouldn't have come. Bad timing, I guess."

"Oh you didn't know." It was obvious Leroy didn't exactly believe him.

"No!" Eliot insisted, pacing in the shadows. "I just got out of a- an unavoidable business complication down South. That's where I've been."

"An unavoidable business complication?" Leroy narrowed his eyes, glaring at the dark shape of his son. "Do you know how long she spent crying over you? Over spilt milk, obviously."

"_Obviously_ not very long! It's been six months and she's getting married!" Eliot yelled, running his fingers through his too-long hair. Before he knew what was happening, Leroy had him up against the brick fireplace, both hands gripping in his shirt.

"She's _happy_. If you give a damn about her, you'll stay far, far away. And if you _don't_, you'll stay _further_," he hissed, hot under the collar.

Eliot blinked, taken aback, an unusual feeling for him. He pushed his father away, maybe a tad more violently than he meant to. "I don't just give a damn. I _love _her. But I'll stay away. If she's really that happy." His voice came out as an angry growl and the light hit the side of his face, displaying barely healed wounds that ran all down his neck. Eliot pulled away, slipping quietly to the door, deceptively stealthy. He turned as he opened the sliding glass, adding, "Why don't you just say it? Bob could make her happy; what's wrong with me?"

Margaret came in that night to find the house dark but for one light, the sliding glass door open and Leroy sitting in an armchair, his head in his hands. When he looked up at her, she gasped at the tears in his eyes.

---

_Present Day_

Leroy sat outside in the truck long after Parker and Margaret had gone upstairs to the apartment. Eliot's car was nowhere to be seen, despite his hoping and wishing. "He didn't make her happy. I was wrong," he said to the dark, empty street.

"I know." He jumped at the sound of Eliot's voice and glanced around, spotting him leaning against the apartment building. Eliot slowly walked over to the truck, leaning against the open window. "I heard they got divorced."

Leroy nodded, clenching and unclenching his fingers. Opening the door, Eliot climbed up inside. "You know, sometimes I wonder who you thought of as yours. Me or Aimee. I was never jealous but, really. You kicked me out because _she _got married."

"That's not fair," Leroy muttered.

"Isn't it, Dad?"

"Would you have done something? Something to stop her marrying him?" he demanded.

Eliot looked away, not sure himself. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "Maybe."

"Then, no, it isn't fair." Eliot heaved a sigh. It seemed, even after all these years, things would never change between them. "But. But, I am sorry."

Eliot's eyes shot to his father's face. "What?"

"I'm sorry. You'll always be my son, no matter what, and I'm sorry I let you think I didn't feel that way," Leroy said, quiet, but sure. Eliot stared at him in disbelief for a long moment.

"You-you really mean that?"

"Yes, I really mean it. Besides, it would seem you and Aimee weren't meant to be, anyway. That Parker… she's a handful but she's just your type."

Eliot couldn't help but laugh out loud.

---

Parker sat in a chair at the window in the bedroom, her knees tucked up to her chest. "Hey," Eliot murmured as he came in.

She shifted but didn't answer. Eliot sighed, walking over to her and setting one hand on her shoulder. Flinching, Parker looked up at him, inadvertently showing him the tears she so desperately wanted to hide. Eliot swallowed hard, wiping them away with his thumb. "Did you mean it?" she asked, her voice cracking.

It took him a moment to realize what he meant but as the lyrics flooded back to him, he nodded slowly. _I look at you, when the world is full of lies._ "Yeah. Yeah, I meant it." He squeezed her shoulder in hope that she took the dedication in the spirit it was meant and didn't bolt. _I look at you, and I know I've got it all. _

Parker stared at him for what felt like hours before she stood, wrapping her arms around him. "I mean it too," she murmured, her cheek pressed against his chest. Eliot rubbed a hand up and down her back, his face breaking out into the kind of smile that said 'I've got it all' though there was no one else in the dark room to see it.


	8. Wonderfully Ever After

Disclaimer: I do not own Leverage nor am I associated with Dean Devlin, Christian Kane or Beth Riesgraf. Margaret and Leroy Spencer are my creations.

A/N: This is it – fin. I'm glad so many of you have enjoyed this story!!

**Wonderfully Ever After**

Parker traced circles on Eliot's bare chest, listening to the rain pounding against the window. "Thank you," she murmured quietly.

"For what?" he asked, shifting so his arm tightened around her.

"You've been really wonderful. _This _is really wonderful." Parker sat up with a small smile. "You _were _wonderful," she winked.

Eliot laughed. "You were pretty _wonderful _yourself," he teased back. Brushing his fingers through her hair, his face turned serious. "You're a beautiful woman, Parker."

Blushing, Parker ducked her head back against his chest. "Thanks," she mumbled. They were quiet a long moment, the sound of the rain filling the room again. "I think I might even miss your parents after they leave tomorrow. They've grown on me," she finally said but he was already asleep.

---

Walking into the flat that afternoon, Parker sifted through the mail. "Elly, there's a bunch of subscription notices here. I think all those knife and gun magazines you like are coming due." She didn't pause for him to answer as she kicked off her shoes, but continued talking. "So I talked to Sophie at the office. She and Nate want to get us all together for a little celebration tonight. I think they're sort of proud of you, you know, making up with your parents and conning them at the same ti-" Parker walked around the corner into the kitchen, glancing up at Eliot, Leroy and Margaret sitting at the counter and froze.

Eliot stared at her in horror, hands firmly clasped on the granite counter.

"Wh-Why are they still here?" Parker asked, eyes wide.

"Rain, Parker. Storm. Airplane. Don't get along." A look crossed his face she hadn't seen since they all first started working together: dangerous, calm, generally irritated.

"What are you talking about? Parker?" Margaret asked, looking confused.

Parker stammered, struggling for words. Her eyes darted to Eliot's face, mouth open in shock. "Eliot. Oh my god… I'm so sorry…" she whispered.

"_Conning _us?" Leroy repeated, "What the- Eliot?"

"All that work… It was perfect…" Parker continued, still not sure what to say. Eliot heaved a sigh, looking away from her. "What can I do?" she asked as she found her voice.

"You can scram, Parker. Your bag is in my closet," Eliot growled, turning a fierce glare on her. Parker flinched and swallowed hard but nodded, turning and walking out of the room.

He stared into the sink for a long moment until Leroy stood, his chair sliding warningly across the tile floor. "Eliot…"

"Yeah, okay? I'm not a consultant, Parker isn't really my girlfriend, I won that car off Nate, he didn't give it to me, the monkey wasn't mine, I stole it from one lunatic dictator to give it back to another… I can probably go on and on and on about the lies we made up for you two," Eliot mumbled, still staring into the sink.

"You lied to us?" Margaret asked rhetorically, sounding close to tears.

"Yes, Mom. I lied to you because I didn't want to break your heart, all right?" Eliot half-shouted, finally looking up at his parents. "I'm a thief. I don't have a girlfriend and I'll probably never get married. But I didn't want you to know that because I _knew _it would crush you! Is that so bad?"

"Actually, it's terrible. Margaret, get your things," Leroy ordered, angry with himself for not seeing it sooner.

The door slammed as Parker slipped out and Margaret shook her head. "No." She walked around the corner and took Eliot's hands in her own. "Elly? Just tell me what _wasn't _ a lie."

Eliot and Leroy both stared at her as if she had grown another head but Eliot shrugged lightly. "Um, okay. Let's see. I really do live here. I really did make that cabinet. I really do work with all of them. Nate really does drink that much. Sophie really is that bad of an actress." He laughed quietly, adding, "Parker really does love heights."

Margaret smiled to herself, straightening again. "Well. You lied about two things to save my nerves."

"They're sort of two… _big _things, though," Eliot protested, "What I do for a living and whether or not I have a girlfriend?"

"But you did them out of love. That's what really counts. Now, there is one thing you can do to make it up to me." Eliot raised an eyebrow and she continued firmly, "You can go after that girl."

He hesitated and she crooked her own eyebrow at him. "Go!"

Eliot swallowed hard, glancing in the direction of the door. He pulled away, squeezing her hands before grabbing his keys off the counter. Clapping Leroy on the shoulder as he passed and earning himself a rueful smile, Eliot ran out the door into the hall. "Parker!" he yelled, hoping she hadn't gone too far. He dashed down the hallway, punching for an elevator but, impatient as he was, took the stairs two at a time instead. He reached the lobby just as the front door was closing behind Parker. "Parker!" he yelled again, chasing her out onto the sidewalk and grabbing her arm.

She spun around, glaring at him. "_What?_"

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, much to her surprise.

"For what?"

"You did me a favor back there and I took it the wrong way. I know you didn't mean to tell them; you didn't even know they were there! And now, because of you, I won't have to keep lying to my parents. It's actually nice to _not _have to lie," Eliot admitted, his voice dropping as he spoke.

Parker stared at him, analyzing everything he had just said until she very abruptly dropped her bag and threw her arms around his neck. "Does this mean I can stay?" she asked in a whisper.

"Only if you want to," he whispered back, wrapping his arms around her.

"I do." Parker leaned back to kiss him, lifting her feet off the ground. She pulled away slightly to shrug. "Because, you know, I like your salt and pepper shakers better than mine."

Eliot didn't bother to ask, just pulled her back for a kiss. That was the thing about Parker: she never made much sense. But it looked like he would have plenty of time to figure her out.

---

Margaret and Leroy returned to Kentucky the next day when the rain let up but they came to visit every year. Eliot was right: he never got married. But he and Parker stayed together and one Halloween brought them a baby girl and two Easters later brought her a little brother. It wasn't exactly what Margaret might have thought of as the perfect life for her son, but she spoiled those two kids like crazy. Leroy and Eliot continued making up and Parker even grew to like him, though she still hated trying to find a parking space with him.

Maybe they didn't live a fairytale but they at _least _lived _wonderfully_ ever after anyway.

_Fin_


End file.
